


let the rain reverse into clouds of gold

by SerenLyall



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Canon-compliant character deaths, Comfort, F/M, Gil-galad and Elendil are talked about but they aren't technically in the fic, I had a bad day and needed comfort, Oh also, non-explit sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-12 15:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19134853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerenLyall/pseuds/SerenLyall
Summary: Elrond awakens from a nightmare. Celebrían is there to comfort him.





	let the rain reverse into clouds of gold

**Author's Note:**

> I had a shitty as fuck day today and needed some comfort in my life. Tumblr user (and my girlfriend) absynthe--minded gave me a prompt, which I took it and ran away with. (So thanks, babe, for the idea. Lol.) I hope the story can bring at least some modicum of delight to you - or at least some warm fuzzies. Oh, and the title is taken from the svrcina song "burning heart". 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Elrond wakes with a gasp and a strangled cry. He lurches upright, sheets pooling around his legs, then staggers out of the large bed and stumbles toward the bathroom. He crashes into the wardrobe, then the door frame--but then he is in the bathroom, and it is a straight shot to the privy.

He makes it just in time. Landing on his knees, he retches into it once, twice, three times, until bile creeps up his nose and burns his throat and scalds his mouth. He retches again, sour spittle pooling beneath his tongue, then again once more. He spits, then settles back on his heels with a groan.

"El?"

The voice is soft and feminine and familiar, but not expected. Elrond whirls, startled, to see Celebrían standing behind him with a worried look etched onto her face. Her lips are thin and white, her delicate brows drawn low over concerned blue eyes, her pointed chin jutting forward in what any other moment Elrond would say is stubbornness.

"Celebrían," Elrond says softly, voice scorched by bile. "Go back to bed. I am well."

Celebrían ignores him. "What is wrong?" she asks, coming over to stand above him. She lifts a hand and gingerly brushes his hair with her fingertips. "I woke to your cry, but before I could do or say anything, you were gone from our bed."

_ Our bed. _

The words are strong and intoxicating. It has not sunk in yet--really, truly sunk in--that he now gets to share his bed every night with the woman he loves more than life itself. It has not sunk in that he gets to hold her as they fall asleep. It has not sunk in yet that he will get to awaken to her voice every morning.

"El?"

Elrond shakes his head. "I am sorry, Celebrían," he says. "I did not intend for our first night together to culminate in...well, this."

Celebrían smiles, and sifts her fingers into his hair. "Are you done vomiting?" she asks gently, carding her fingers through his dark locks.

Elrond nods. "I think so," he says.

"Then come back to bed," Celebrían urges.

Elrond stands with a slight groan - his wounds, begat by the last battles against Sauron, still pain him when the weather changes abruptly, as it had that night - and then follows Celebrían out of the bathroom and back into their bedroom. Celebrían slides into their bed, and Elrond joins her, climbing between the sheets and lying back against the pillows.

Celebrían is there in an instant, curling up against his side, resting her head against his shoulder and tracing a finger along his ribs and the old scars there.

"Tell me what you dreamed of?" she asks softly, flicking her eyes up to Elrond's.

Elrond frowns. "I never said--"

"You did not need to," Celebrían says, cutting in. "You forget, my love--we are bound now, mind to mind and heart to heart."

Elrond smiles. He had forgotten, though their bond burns bright and hot and new amid his thoughts. Then his smile fades.

"I do not want to burden you," he says.

Celebrían shakes her head. "You burden me more by letting me fret and wonder at what ails you," she says. "Besides," she adds, "I am your  _ wife _ . That means we share our woes and pains. That means we no longer must suffer alone."

A thrill once more runs through Elrond at hearing the word  _ wife. _

_ She is my wife, _ he thinks, rejoices, exults.  _ My wife, my wife, my wife… _

Aloud, he sighs and then nods. "Very well," he says heavily. "I...I have never told anyone about this before," he admits, shifting so that his arm encircles Celebrían's shoulders.

Celebrían is silent for a terribly long moment, allowing Elrond to speak on his own time. At last, though, Elrond says, "I dream about their deaths almost every night."

"Whose deaths?" Celebrían asks, though her face seems to say that she already knows the answer to her question.

Again Elrond is silent for a long moment, gathering his nerve to speak. He does not know why, but to actually put his dreams and fears and memories to words is...difficult. More difficult than he would have thought.

Finally--finally, finally, finally--he finds the strength to speak, though not to answer Celebrían's answer directly.

"I watched him burn," Elrond says quietly. His voice trembles at the end, betraying him. "I watched him burn, and I watched Elendil's body break, and there is nothing…

"It is my fault, Celebrían," he whispers hoarsely at last. "They came to save  _ me _ . And they both died for it."

Celebrían rises from her place nestled in the crook of Elrond's arm and turns so that she is facing him. "It is no one's fault but Sauron's," she says firmly, though her voice remains soft.

"But if not for me--"

"Then they likely still would have died," Celebrían retorted. "Perhaps not that day, perhaps not that week. But--nevermind that without you they would have both died far sooner than they did--the Alliance would have not won against Sauron if not for the series of events that  _ you _ put in motion."

Elrond shivers, and Celebrían sinks closer against him, threading her right arm across his chest and down his side.

"You are not to blame for their deaths," Celebrían whispers, and then leans her head down to press her lips against Elrond's bare breast in a kiss. "It's not your fault," she murmurs against his skin, as if she can impart that belief into his very flesh if only she whispers the words close enough to his bones.

"Yet I still see them," Elrond says. "Most every night. I relive their deaths again and again. I hear again their screams, and Elendil's bones breaking as he struck the rock, audible even a dozen paces away, and the flames that ate at Gil-galad's flesh was riotous and loud--"

Celebrían silences his spiral with a kiss. "I know," she says when she draws away. "I know, my love," she says.

"I just want to sleep without dreaming," Elrond says, voice hitching with half a sob. "Without dreaming of their deaths. Without dreaming of broken plains and fiery pits and Orcs, so many Orcs…"

"Do you trust me?" Celebrían asks.

"With my soul," Elrond replies.

Celebrían smiles. "Good," she says, and climbs on top of him. "Then trust me. I have an idea." Her smile turns wicked.

Their lovemaking is still fresh and new and awkward, full of arms in unexpected places and teeth clicking together and laughter. Above all there is laughter.

When they are done, Celebrían settles back into the circle of Elrond's arms, skin slick with sweat and brimming with pleasure, and resumes tracing the scars on his ribs with her fingertips.

"How do you feel?" she asks.

"Content," Elrond replies. "Content in a way I never have before."

Celebrían turns again and shimmies her way up Elrond's shoulder to kiss him. Her tongue slides into his mouth, and Elrond groans into the kiss, deepening it further still. For a long moment they simply bask in the taste and warmth of the kiss, and when they finally break apart, they are both smiling.

"I will never tire of that," Celebrían murmurs.

"Nor I," says Elrond.

"Now go to sleep," Celebrían urges, settling her head down on her husband's shoulder once more. "I will be here if you waken again."

Elrond nods against the pillow, then says, "Thank you, Celebrían."

"For always, my El," Celebrían replies, pressing one final kiss to her husband's skin.

They drift off into reverie together, lulled by the sound of the rain beating against the glass of the windows, breathing in soft concert.

Elrond does not dream again that night. 


End file.
